


New Year

by SLWalker



Series: Arch to the Sky [23]
Category: due South
Genre: Arch to the Sky, Gen, Nipawin (1991-1995)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1993: Mischief and mayhem in the wee hours in Nipawin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year

It wasn't unusual for Turnbull to come in to find a mostly empty, if not entirely empty detachment building, and so he had thought nothing of it. Not a single thing; he simply picked up his keys, checked for any prior calls that might come up again on his shift, made certain there weren't any house or business checks aside his usual ones and then headed back out to get into his cruiser.

It was barely warmed up when things started getting surreal.

"Bravo four-two-oh, control... I'll be ten-eight."

The dispatcher came back, _"Acknowledged, bravo four-two-oh, twenty-two-sixteen. There's a report of disturbance at the Regional Park, at the minigolf course, just came in."_

"Ten-four," Turnbull answered. He hung his mic back up, then pulled out, listening to the crackling of the hard, frozen snow under the cruiser's tires. It was well below freezing, and at this hour, he could only guess it was some of the town's youth who decided to go and get drunk there. Or otherwise impaired. No one was playing _putt-putt_ at this hour.

For that matter, he couldn't think of why anyone would want to be in the park _at all_. He was used to the cold, but that didn't mean that he thought it was necessarily a good idea to be outside. The wind-chill alone was the kind that could cut right through a person's clothes.

Then again, it was entirely possible that it was a deer, or perhaps some other form of wildlife, and someone happened by and called it in, thinking there was a person involved...

He ticked his thumb against the steering wheel, leaning forward to peer out and around into the dark, quiet night as he drove. Nipawin was quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful, really; the warm lights of houses, the leftover strings of lights from Christmas, casting colors into the blue-gray snow. There were, of course, times when he wanted to strangle some of its residents, but on the whole, Turnbull loved the town like he had known to love few things in his life.

As such, he was not particularly put out by having to go respond to a call that could be teenagers getting inebriated, or wildlife wandering around.

And that was when he saw it.

Turnbull wasn't sure _what_ it was. Just that it was glowing. Orange. He blinked and slowly let his foot off the gas pedal, his head tilting to the side as his cruiser came to a slow, grinding halt in the middle of the road.

It was glowing and getting larger. And higher.

It was glowing and getting larger, higher and more definably _on fire_.

"...oh, God..." He opened the door, hastily, getting out and staring wide-eyed up at the ball of fire that looked like it was going to go over his head, thinking plane crash -- there was a history of small plane crashes, though usually not _flaming plane crashes_ \-- thinking that whatever it was most certainly was a hazard to this town, its people, and it was...

Glowing, getting larger, higher, _on fire_ , with a string of _Christmas lights_ trailing off of the back, and a _banner_...

It was a _snowmobile_.

It flew well over Turnbull's head, crackling and burning and then crashed about two hundred yards behind his cruiser in what could only be described as a miniature _mushroom cloud_ , in the middle of the road, and he jumped when it did, though he likely imagined feeling the heat.

He stared, gaping, then slowly reached inside of the cruiser for his microphone. "Bravo four-two-oh, control..." It took a moment for him to continue, "I need a thirty-two for Nipawin's fire units at Gordon near the park entrance... for a... for a... a snowmobile explosion in the roadway." Well. A snowmobile mushroom cloud. He wasn't sure how one would call that in.

There was a long pause before the dispatcher responded, sounding about like he felt, _"Ten-four, bravo four-two-oh, twenty-two-twenty-three. Sending the fire department."_

Another vehicle had pulled to a stop on the other side of it and Turnbull was just about to go and edge around the... the burning wreckage in the road when it started backing up, and that was when he heard the sound of panting and footfalls behind him...

"Guy."

Later, Turnbull would reflect that he was amazed he didn't put it together instantly. Guy, followed by Longfellow, on foot, from the park and the burning snowmobile laying in flaming pieces on the roadway....

He stared for a moment between the two and then exploded himself, "GUY!"

Guy smirked, slow and lazy, which was utterly at odds with the fact that he was still catching his breath. "What?"

"What have you done?!" Turnbull didn't mean for it to come out as high-pitched as that, and he was gripping the life out of the top of his cruiser's door, simply so he would not _strangle that man_ , right here, right in front of the _disaster_ that he just created, and dear God, how was he going to explain _this_ to his staff sergeant?!

Guy spread his arms wide, as the howling of the fire engines came into earshot, smiling in a very disconcerting manner as the light from the flames reflected off of his marijuana-leaf sunglasses. "Happy New Year, Nipawin!"


End file.
